


Naked and Blue

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Frottage, M/M, More M than E though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are still learning how to maneuver through a world where Cas can't read Dean like he used to. Until events unexpected lead to the repair of their bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a bit of mild porn with minimal plot, and stems from me being tired of Dean and Cas being so disconnected from each other lately. If the writers refuse to fix it...we'll have to. ;)

Castiel was always the one of them up and wandering the bunker first in the morning - by a long shot, hours even before Sam. Of course, that was mostly because of his lack of need for sleep, but… it made for a lot of alone time. 

And since Sam's laptop was often there on the library table, he would burn those minutes by Googling things. It’s what he was doing this morning; wearing his A.M. uniform of sweat pants and a ‘V’ neck t-shirt, engrossed in an article about the history of Western Philosophy.

 _So_ engrossed, he barely heard Dean pad in - barefoot, in his boxers, bare-chested, the usual beautiful, semi-torturous eye-candy. Castiel had almost gotten used to it; the impact seeing Dean this way had on his brain and body since his exposure to human feelings and … a human’s physical needs. He was nearly able to push his own involuntary reactions down and away, far away, thanks to his recently found grace. 

It wasn’t easy, though. He refocused on the article topics: Nominalism, rationalism. Dualism. Skepticism. Yes, skepticism. As in, he was skeptical he could keep this _front_ up. Metaphysics. Idealism…..

"’Morning,'" Dean said, stopping in front of him.

"Good morning, Dean."

Castiel purposefully didn't look up as he said it, and so he didn't see it happen: Dean dropping in, a hand going to the table for balance, reaching with his mouth to capture Cas' lips. 

Dean kissed him softly; once, and then a second time before pulling back a couple of inches – eyes darting from Cas’ eyes to Cas’ lips, clearly asking silently for Cas to open his mouth for him. He did; his own eyes closing, his breath catching when Dean's tongue poked in and then dove much farther; slid along his again and again, Dean’s head tilting to find the best angle, to kiss Cas deep and rough, working Castiel’s mouth with his own.

“What was that? Why?” Castiel asked when he could, trying not to sound upset and failing. His fingers, he found, were on his lips and then his chin, tracing over them; feeling how warm and utilized they were. “Why did you… Dean, why did you _do_ that?”

“It’s my birthday,” he watched Dean head for the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon and walking them to the stove. “And that’s what I wanted for my birthday. I mean… if you were…..willing. You know? And you seemed to be. Willing.”

“Oh. I’m… sorry I forgot.” Castiel felt like he’d let him down, not remembering. “I don't mark my time with dates, holidays; things humans find…convenient.”

“Yeah, I know. I generally don’t give a shit about it, either, but…”

This year had been a rough one. And they were all of them still alive, somehow; enjoying time in the bunker - random cases to tend to, nothing awful on the horizon for a brief and beautiful moment.

“Want some eggs?” Dean asked; pulling the large frying pan in, filling it with every bit of the bacon.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “And…”

“And what, budd….” Dean stopped there, in mid-sentence. “And what, Cas?”

“I want more.”

“More than eggs?”

“More than a kiss.”

“Oh, you do, huh?”

“ _Dean_ ….”

“Better come help me, then,” Dean never turned away from the stove, but Castiel could hear it in his voice – a gruff teasing note. “Get our plates, and fix us some toast. You can’t make love on an empty stomach.”

“What does that mean?”

Metatron had dumped a mother load of pop culture into his brain, but sometimes the context wasn’t clear. Dean seemed to enjoy explaining; like he was glad that miserable slug hadn’t taken the role away from him, entirely.

“Well… I don’t know for sure what it means beyond it being something people say. Personally? I prefer a happy medium. Nothing worse than sex on a really full belly. Seems like common sense to me - a happy medium.”

Castiel started the toast and found them some silverware. He considered broaching the difference between ‘sex’ and ‘making love.’ He hoped Dean could see his way to the two of them attempting the later, if they were to proceed with this. Because them simply fucking, with no emotional connection? 

He knew it would only make him yearn more.

The bacon was done, lying on a paper towel - eggs were snapping in the grease when Dean reached left to kiss him again. It was as calm and quiet as before but somehow more…urgent; Dean’s hand finding Castiel’s hair over his left ear and tugging at it none too gently, watching Cas and then smiling softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he went in for more.

“How long have you wanted me?” Castiel asked when their breakfast came perilously close to going up in flames, Dean getting a spatula under the eggs and plating them, cranking down the burner.

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “How long has it been since that night?”

“Which night?” Cas asked.

With his grace on the mend, Castiel couldn’t read Dean’s yearnings and other assorted feelings and recollections as well as he used to. These days, Dean had to overcome his disinclination to _talk_ about _shit_ if he wanted he and Cas to be on the same wavelength. Castiel had to parse Dean’s words for any _prayer_ of a clue to what was really on his mind. 

It had all been so much easier….before. Castiel had prayed more than once for a return of it, but so far… as Dean might say, ‘no dice.’ Their connection remained …broken.

“The night, when I left you standing alone in a circle of fire,” Dean said.

“I had let you down. At least… you felt I did.”

“Yeah. It made me realize a lot. Of course, that’s not to say I haven’t been fighting hard against those realizations ever since, but…you asked. And that was when. For me. When did you…”

“The time we thought the world would end,” Castiel looked up at him. “And you chose to spend your last hours with me. That’s when I first desired you – with my mind, and also my vessel.”

“Ah, yes,” Dean said. “And in return, I tried to buy you a whore. Good times. Here’s hoping that whole level of shit storm won’t hit town again anytime soon.”

They talked about other things as they ate breakfast, but somehow Castiel felt he’d communicated his hopes for what was coming next without having to directly broach them - and that Dean got it. 

~*~

When they got to Dean’s room and shut the door…. Cas was the one who needed some talking down.

“Slow. Okay?” Dean set hands on Cas’ shoulders, shaking him lightly, giving him half a push away when Cas _went_ at Dean with his mouth and hands. “We’ve got time. Nothing’s getting in our way. Nothing. It’s just us.”

It was like a kind of gentle dance after that: The slow discarding of clothes and deep, long, aimless kisses. The way Dean touched him was a revelation; like Castiel was a precious thing to be catalogued and understood, his reactions to Dean's touch recorded for future reference.

Maybe that was the most intense and exhilarating part of it all? Dean really seeing him; feeling so deeply connected to another being- especially one he'd desired more deeply than all the others combined.

And to sense Dean feeling it back? To watch his gaze get sex-hazy as they rolled in bed; to hear his breathing shift, getting deeper and the… _sounds_ that Dean made? All....so good. So much better than he’d imagined it would be.

"We can come like this," Dean said, a hand in between them, around them both, tugging, anticipation tightening his voice. "Keep it simple this time. You want to come like this, Cas?"

“No…..” Castiel turned on his back, urging Dean over him, in between his legs. “Like this. I want you….”

He could feel Dean desiring that, too; could feel it in the way they slotted together so naturally, in Dean pushing against him, a nice, slow frot…..and, he could feel something else. Hesitation. Concern. Like wisps of clouds in a blue sky….he felt what Dean was feeling. Intuiting it? Couldn’t be…that hadn’t happened…in forever.

“You sure, Cas?” Dean was asking it against his ear, groaning softly at Castiel wrapping legs around him and rocking harder. “It can be….tricky. And I’ve never…. fucked a guy. Not …all out. You know?”

“Wait….” Castiel found Dean’s hand and guided it back between them and down, lower. “It doesn’t have to be tricky. I still have some…mojo….”

He felt Dean’s finger teasing at him and then sliding in, followed by another, Castiel’s body taking them both easily, swallowing them up in slickness, squeezing around them, Dean’s whole body rippling over him with surprise and … anticipation.

“Oh, _geeezus_ , Cas…. _yeaaah_. I ….didn’t think…..you could….. _damn_ …..”

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement or explanation: Was over him, pushing Cas’ legs back, was in him. Castiel felt his back arch, his head coming off the pillow with the pleasure of being filled and fucked- fast and yet not rough, just enthusiastic and …. joyous.

Then Dean hit the spot that Castiel knew full well was there to be hit but…it was the first time he’d felt _this_ – shivering waves of pleasure so strong he cried out once and then again and Dean was swearing in his ear, dropping in to dig teeth lightly into Castiel’s shoulder and they were coming at the same moment – falling apart together, ragged and torn and …. in synch.

Perfectly in synch.

~*~

Castiel was still recovering – still catching his breath when he felt it for the second time that night; a wave of Dean’s own feelings; his thoughts and yearnings and …regrets.

Dean would never say it but …he still felt unworthy. The bruises on his face had healed, but he still felt he deserved the beating he’d taken and then had refused to let Castiel mend. He still felt....so much less than he was.

Castiel debated how to let Dean know. That he knew.

“I like you as much as I love you,” Cas said, finally. “Every bit of you: Sweet and bitter and …as distant as you can be, sometimes, Dean: I know you down to your cellular level. I know you like I know the sky, the sea and the stars. I….know you. Perfectly. And I like you just as you are.”

“Stop,” Dean said. “I…can’t accept that. I don’t deserve ….”

“It’s not your birthday,” Castiel said, the realization coming out of nowhere and blindsiding him. “Your birthday … is in January.”

The way Dean shook against him? Chuckling?

“Knew you’d figure it out. Didn’t think you would so soon.”

“So you wanted all of this….” 

“For it’s own sake,” Dean said. “For as long as I said. Yeah. Screw us needing any reason, okay? I just…wanted it. Wanted you. Figured it was about time.”

“Yes. It certainly was.” 

And, it appeared to have carried a very positive side effect: A return of their connection. Castiel decided it might be best to let him know a bit at a time… later.

“You could do so much better, Castiel,” Dean said. “So much better than hanging with us.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop bashing him,” Castiel said back. 

“Who?”

“The man I hold most dear.”

Dean leaned up to lock eyes, then shook his head, dropping back.

“Okay. I’ll try. That’s all I can promise. I will try.”

“Good,” Castiel urged Dean onto his side, sensing that perhaps, tonight, Dean might enjoy being the smaller spoon. “It’s a start.”

-fin- 

~*~

The title of the story is from a song I love called “Blue.” The title itself makes me think Castiel but the words, too, seem like Cas thinking of Dean:

“I like you, love you, every coast of you.  
I've seen your eddies and tides and hurricanes and cyclones.  
Low ebb tide and high, full moon.  
Up close and distant.  
I read you.  
Look, the sky, the sea, the ocean, the sun, the moon.  
Blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue blue, blue, blue, blue, blue.  
Naked and blue."


End file.
